Making the Cut (15 page)

AXTON

Respect. In the hustle and bustle world of the modern age, the general population has forgotten how to be respectful. Most of what would make us more courteous as adults was drilled into our heads as children. Don’t touch it if it isn’t yours. Don’t lie. Don’t cheat. Don’t steal. Use the words
please
,
thank you
, and
excuse me
in everything you do. Think before you act. If someone serves you something, eat it out of respect without complaint. Stand up for what you believe in. If you make a mistake, be man enough to admit it. Don’t say you’re going to do something unless you have every intention of following through with your promise.

No, it’s not okay to cut me off on the highway because you’re late for your son’s soccer game. There is never a good time to text a picture of the soup you ate for lunch to your girlfriend while you’re on the highway.

People assume because I look tough, I’m covered in tattoos, and I ride a motorcycle I must be disrespectful. Nothing could be further from the truth. I treat others with respect, and I expect the same in return. For me to walk this earth smiling at every person I see and shaking the hands of strangers would be the same as living a lie. Most people on this planet aren’t the caliber of person I want to know, be friends with, or allow to the luxury of even saying they’ve ever met me.

“Damned near graduation day, huh?” I asked as I slid my empty water glass to the center of the table.

“Yep,” Avery nodded.

She sure didn’t seem to be excited about the fact she was graduating from college. Hell, I barely made it through high school. As much school as I missed, it was a miracle I even graduated.  I learned more in my post-graduation reading than I ever did in school. I wouldn’t trade who I had become for anything, but it sure would have been nice to get a degree in mechanical engineering. Applying the education of a technical degree to building bikes would be far more efficient than reading books every night.

“Can I get you some more water?” the waitress asked.

“No thank you,” I nodded.

She turned and smiled at Avery, “You ma’am?”

“No thank you,” Avery responded.

“Anything else?” she asked.

I shook my head and grinned, “The food was great. We’re stuffed.”

“Okay, I’ll leave this here. No hurry, whenever you’re ready,” she said as she placed the bill on the table.

I looked at the bill. $17.22. I reached for my wallet and placed thirty dollars on the table. I’ve always believed if I couldn’t leave a ten dollar tip for a meal, regardless of the cost, I shouldn’t be eating in public.

“Ready?” I asked.

She stood from her chair and slid her glasses onto her nose. Avery had changed from talking a hundred miles an hour about any and everything to being a woman of a few words. In a conversation about a particular subject she’d talk for as long as I was interested in doing so. Through the course of a normal day, she now spoke very little unless I encouraged her to do so. Seeing the change in her caused me to believe she was willing to modify her behavior to attempt to please me.

“You don’t talk much anymore,” I chuckled as I stood.

She shrugged her shoulders, “Don’t have to.”

I opened the door and waited for her to walk through. As I stepped to the sidewalk and turned toward my bike, a man was standing beside it taking pictures. I reached down and pulled the rubber band away from my wrist.

“What are you doing?” I growled.

Snap!

He looked up, grinned, and took another picture, “Just taking a few pics of this bike.”

“Is it yours?” I shrugged as I stopped in front of the bike.

He shook his head and stood, “Nope. Probably yours, huh?”

Avery stood quietly by my side with her hands in her pockets. It was probably a good thing she was with me, as I had found myself fractionally more reserved in her company. I rested my hands on my belt and stared as he continued to try and take the perfect photo of
my
bike.

“Probably.”

Dressed in nice jeans, a button down shirt, and dress shoes, he looked like a thirty-something year old business man. I would have expected him to have had enough common sense to at least, in my presence, ask permission to continue.

“You have any kids?” I asked.

He looked up and smiled, “Yeah, two.”

“What’s your address?” I asked.

He shoved his cell phone into his front pocket and narrowed his eyes, “Excuse me?”

I crossed my arms and began flexing my pectoral muscles, causing my chest to flare, “Your address? I need your address.”

“Uhhm, I don’t think so, why?”

“I want to come over sometime when you’re gone and take some pictures of your fucking kids, you idiot.”

“Uhhm. Listen, I was just…” he began.

“You were just fucking with something that wasn’t yours is what you were doing. I don’t have a family, that bike is all I’ve got. It’s like my kid. It sure as fuck isn’t on a pedestal in a museum, is it? It’s not on display out here for you to take fucking pictures of, that’s for God damned sure,” I shook my head lightly and inhaled a deep breath.

I looked up and down the block and then shifted my gaze to him, “You know, this is the only restaurant around. There isn’t another place of business for two fucking blocks. It was pretty fucking obvious where we were. It would have been a lot different if you’d have stuck your head in the restaurant and said,
hey, I’m building a Heritage Softail and I’d like to use yours as a template
. Hell, I’d have agreed and probably been fucking flattered.”

“I uhhm. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Get out of here. I’m done talking to you,” I grunted as I raised my hand and waved toward the end of the block.

As he walked away, I glanced at Avery, “I fucking hate people.”

She grinned and lowered her chin slightly.

“So, what? Now I talk like a motherfucker, and you smile and nod?” I shrugged.

She grinned and tossed her leg over the rear fender, “Yep.”

I stood beside the motorcycle and admired her. As much as I hated to admit it, she looked damned good sitting on the bike. Having Avery accompany me for the last month allowed me to become fractionally more civil. I was still myself, but a little less rough around the edges.

“Well, it’s a good thing you were here. Balance. You give me fucking balance,” I said as I stepped over the seat.

“Progress,” she sighed.

I raised my right hand to the apes and rested my hand on the grip. Across the street a new Lexus was parked; probably the amateur photographer’s car. I grinned, twisted the throttle twice, flipped the ignition, and hit the
start
button. As the engine warmed up to temperature, I released the throttle, reached over the ape hangers and snapped my rubber band against my left wrist.

Snap!

I gazed at the new Lexus.

Snap!

“Ready?” I asked as I moved my right hand to the throttle.

“Always,” she responded.

As we slowly rode past the Lexus, I grinned.

Progress.

AVERY

Setting and achieving goals has driven me to succeed at almost everything I intended to accomplish. Graduating from college was my most difficult goal to date; therefore I looked at it as a huge accomplishment. Considering my mother’s disappointment in my choices in the last few years, it came as no surprise that I didn’t hear from my family prior to graduation. As stubborn as I am, I wasn’t about to call her and remind her, and as disappointed as she was, she certainly wasn’t going to naturally offer. Either way, graduating from college and having no one in attendance made me, once again, feel invisible.

“Avery Taylor,” the voice crackled over the loudspeakers.

Already in position on the right side of the stage, I stepped up the three stairs and onto the platform. As I walked across the stage, it was almost as if I was in a trance. Deaf and blind to what surrounded me, with my left hand I accepted the diploma and shook his hand with my right. I shuffled to the next handshake, and the next. Quiet and feeling tiny, I walked back to my seat with my shoulders slumped. As I found my chair, I opened the diploma.

A fake. A phony. Not having the actual certificate made me feel even more uneasy. They had advised us we would receive the actual document in the mail. Knowing it didn’t make me feel any better. I slid forward in my seat, knowing this was almost over. I wanted to see Axton, ride on his bike, and let the wind against my face allow me to feel as if none of this really mattered. Instead, I was scheduled to meet Sloan’s parents for dinner. I hadn’t even reminded Axton I was graduating. I knew he would have bigger and better things to do than come to some bullshit like a college graduation.

At least my name starts with a “T”. This is almost over.

“I now present you with the Southwestern College graduating class of 2014!”

As I watched everyone stand and scream, I turned and walked along the row of seats toward the aisle. Students stood hugging their friends, family, parents, brothers and sisters. It was a joyous occasion for all. I’ve never been a person to wallow in self-pity or feel sorry for myself, but I felt alone. My throat felt dry and my eyes felt wet. As I stumbled toward the parking lot still in a fog, I heard my name being called.

“Avery! God damn, girl. Are you fucking deaf?”

I glanced up and toward the voice. A large black mob of Sinner cuts stood before me.

Holy shit!

Axton, Otis, Hollywood, Toad, Pete, Stacey, Mike, Fancy, and several other members I didn’t recognize were all standing shoulder to shoulder with their arms crossed. Axton stood in the center with his arms outstretched and open wide. Immediately, I felt as if nothing else mattered. I wanted to rush toward him and have him pick me up and swing me in the air. Instead, I walked slowly as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“I’m proud of you,” Axton said as he wrapped his arms around me.

As he squeezed me and lifted my feet from the ground, I closed my eyes.

You. Just. Made. My. Day.

Continued ‘good jobs’, ‘congratulations’, and ‘fuck yeah, you did it, girl’s’ came from the crowd as Axton held me in his arms. When he finally lowered me to the ground, Otis reached into his cut and removed a wrapped gift. After handing it to Axton, Axton, in turn, handed it to me.

“What…”

“It’s from the fellas, it ain’t from me. Well, it’s from all of us. Open it,” he nodded.

I unwrapped the gift carefully and clutched the wrapping paper in my hand. As I opened the small black box, I wanted the moment to last forever. The excitement, the men, the hug, the attention, the fact that there were hundreds of people graduating, and the only men to ride motorcycles to the ceremony and wear their cuts to graduation were all waiting for me. I tilted the top back and peered inside.

A wide silver bracelet, beveled on each side with ornate engraving on the face was positioned in the center of the box on a velvet pedestal. I glanced toward Axton.

Don’t fucking cry. Just don’t.

I nodded my head once and reached inside the box.

“Turn it over,” he whispered, “Look inside.”

I picked the bracelet up and looked inside. Engraved in elegant script, the words were clear.

The Devil Looks After His Own.             

I naturally attempted to inhale a breath. My breathing was choppy. I was about to lose my composure and start sobbing. With shaking hands, I removed the bracelet, pressed it over my left wrist, and looked at it down in admiration. 

“You like it?” Otis asked.

I looked up and nodded my head.

“The bracelet is from the Sinners. The engraving on the inside? It’s from Otis and me,” Axton winked.

The Devil Looks After His Own.

“Where’s Sloan?” Axton asked.

I shrugged, “Supposed to meet her in the parking lot. Her parents are here and stuff. We were all going to go to dinner or something, I don’t know.”

Axton shrugged, “I guess you getting on the back of that sled of mine is out of the question?”

I pulled my gown over my shoulders and lifted it over my head. After carefully folding the fake diploma, cap, and gift box into the gown, I walked to the trash can a few feet away and tossed them inside.

“Glasses?” he asked.

I unzipped my clutch and pulled out my glasses, “Always.”

“Ready?” he asked.

I pushed my hands into the rear pockets of my shorts and looked down at my sneakers. What started out as an awful day had quickly turned into the best day of my life. I glanced up and smiled.

“Always,” I grinned.

Axton turned toward Toad and nodded his head.

“On it, boss,” Toad responded.

Secretive fuckers.

As the rest of us methodically walked to the parking lot, Toad stayed behind. Something about being in the presence of all of the men made me feel powerful. I watched as girls I’d went to school with for four years craned their necks and whipped their heads to the side to catch a glimpse of us as we walked through the parking lot.

That’s right bitches.

The Devil Looks After His Own. Yep, the fellas came to congratulate me and take me for a ride.

“We were thinking of riding out to Stearman Field Airport in Benton and meeting up with another club. About an hour ride there, stay an hour or two, and an hour back. It’ll kill the rest of the day, you alright with that?” Axton asked over his shoulder.

I may not officially have been Axton’s Ol’ Lady, and we may not be fucking, but I knew him having me along for the ride with twelve other members, meeting another club, and being the only
bitch
in attendance didn’t go without notice from all of the other men. He might not have been ready to admit it, but he was taking me along because he wanted to, not out a feeling of obligation.

I grinned and nodded my head.

“Now, listen up. When we ride with these fellas, it ain’t like when we ride alone. These guys are gonna ride hard, so be ready,” he smiled.

I started to say something smart-assed, and bit my lip instead.

Awwe, what the hell.

“The harder the better. That’s what I’ve always said,” I grinned.

As Axton glared at me and continued to walk his mechanical walk of
don’t fuck with me
swagger, he reached toward his left wrist. I didn’t need to see what he was doing, I knew. I waited to hear the sound.

Snap!

I grinned and threw my leg over the back of his fender.

Mission accomplished.